Crimson Ice
by quillenchanted
Summary: To seal my heart in this chamber of glass. Away from my future, forgotten by the past. The tears that fall hold my emotions fast. Cut apart from me, not meant to last.
1. Christmas Eve in Sarajevo

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Harry Potter registered trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not claim any rights to that which is protected by such laws. The storyline, however, is mine.

* * *

Christmas Eve, On the Edge of the Forbidden Forrest

* * *

'_Beautiful_,' she thought, as she looked upon the crimson falling onto the pure, white snow. It had been so long since she had felt the need to cry. As each tear fell, it burned a path through the blanket of snow and melted it, leaving a red trail. She looked to her arm, from which the drops fell, with mild fascination. A single gash ran from the base of her wrist to her elbow. She felt her body shaking, but whether it was from the bitter cold, or the falling tears, she didn't know. Shaking her head to clear it, she found she was quite tired. As she tried to drift off to sleep, her thoughts fell to the hectic day she'd had.

* * *

It had taken the most careful planning, but she was finally going to do it. Harry and Ron had both gone to Phoenix headquarters for the break. The only event that was to be held was the winter ball. As she was head girl, she'd done most of the organizing. She'd just woken up, and was busy making herself look anything but presentable. Her hair was stringy and matted at the same time, a simple spell had given her a slight fever, and she was still wearing her pajamas, which consisted of pale blue lounge pants and a black satin tank top. Quickly, she went to brush her teeth before running into the head's common room and plopping down on the green and gold couch in front of the fire. She pulled out "Hogwarts A History", and checked her watch. It read seven o'clock. _'Good_.' She thought. _'I'm still early. I have to seem normal if I want to pull this off.' _

Professor Dumbledore was coming to talk with the Heads today about the last minute procedures for the ball. Two minutes before the Professor was supposed to make his appearance, the head boy sprinted into the common room.

"Morning mudblood." He greeted her.

"Morning Draco." She said without looking up from her book. They remained in silence until the professor came in; at which time the last preparations were put in place. After a lot of discussion, and even more arguing between Dumbledore and Draco, everything was in place. Albus was just standing to leave. Suddenly, Hermione burst into a coughing fit. It didn't seem forced or fake, so she assumed the spell had finally taken full effect.

"Hermione, I think it'd be best if you sat this one out. Maybe just come as a student." Professor Dumbledore had turned to her and was now taking notice of her condition.

"But Professor! I need to finish the decorations! And what about the place settings, and the snow enchantments! And the-" Hermione interrupted herself with another coughing fit, which Dumbledore took advantage of.

"They will all be taken care of. I think that your health is more important at the moment," he allowed a small chuckle, "I suppose you've been a bit overworked, so consider this your break!" Said Dumbledore merrily.

"But Professor-" She was cut off again, this time by the Professor.

"No buts. And I'd suggest you have Madame Pomfrey take a look at that cold of yours." Cheerfully he added, "Merry Christmas!" With that, he swept from the room.

"Stupid know-it-all Mudblood!" Draco raged, "Consider yourself lucky. It's no fair! Now I'm going to have to do everything. This is servant's work!" With that, he stormed out of the Common Room, and off to his private chambers.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile of relief. No one suspected anything. She gathered her books and walked to her bedchamber. She set the book down on her desk, and picked up a self-inking quill, a small roll of parchment, and a small shard of never-melting ice. Sighing, she felt the thin blade of ice cut her flesh, a single drop of crimson falling from her arm to the paper, sealing the set spell. Only when the soul left the blood, could the letter be read. She then began to write. As her quill danced across the page, she failed to notice time slipping by. Although it was just past noon, the sky looked dark as heavy snow clouds rolled in and filled the sky.

* * *

Numb. That was all that registered in her brain now. The cold of Christmas Eve had long since penetrated her bones. She was no longer sure whether she was capable of movement or not. 'I wonder when someone will read the letter.' She thought. Trying to sleep had been futile; her mind refused to go blank. 'I wonder if any one's noticed I'm gone?' simple thoughts like these pierced her every now and again, each an echo of the previous one. She doubted anyone would notice. Harry and Ron were both away. She'd told Ginny she was staying in her room to rest, and no one else would care. 

She glanced down at her shard of ice, clutched in her hand. What had been a pure silver crystal was now coated in crimson along its sharpest edge. The more she looked at the piece, the sadder she became. '_No!_' she thought furiously, '_I did not do all that work to give up and break down! I will not be weak, I will not cry!_' What was the purpose in speaking aloud, her hollow mind wondered, when there was no one there to hear? Sighing, she picked up a small amount of snow with her bare hand and began to clean the shard.

Looking back towards the castle, she saw the warm golden glow of the candle lit great hall, and she hoped the other students were happy. The first strains of "Noel" floated towards her on the faint wind of burning ice. She felt drowzy now, her mind growing blurry. A single true tear fell from her eye as she realized how she felt. She spoke aloud, her voice scratched from the cold. "I really was a right little know-it-all. I don't deserve to be happy like them. I don't deserve to be happy at all."

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Possibly to be Continued

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**A/N**: "Shall we hear more or shall we speak at this?" Please leave a review to tell me how horrible and painful that was to read. 


	2. Faith Noel

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Harry Potter registered trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not claim any rights to that which is protected by such laws. The story line, however, is mine.

* * *

The Great Hall, Christmas Eve

* * *

He was rather bored at the moment. The dance was beautiful, and quite nicely set up. But the perfection of the whole thing bothered him. Then again, she was the one who'd organized it. What should he have expected? Hmm, maybe not having to do all the work. He smirked at the irony of his own remark. He'd wanted head boy for as long as he could remember, but he'd never bothered to think about all the work it required. He'd supposed there would always be someone there to do it for him. As he surveyed the dance floor, with it's perfect size and shape courtesy the Mudblood, he saw Crabbe dancing with Millicent, Ginny with Neville, and thankfully no sign of the golden trio. 

"Draco!" An overly cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts, "Why are you standing there? Come on, you need to live a little. Let's dance!" With that, Pansy dragged him onto the dance floor. She placed his hand on her hip, took his other hand in hers, and began to steer him around the floor.

"Pansy, why did you do that?" Draco appeared quite irritated, but she knew it was just an act.

"Well," she whispered, "Why did you act annoyed? You know you love me!" she laughed out loud at her own comment but grew serious, "You were looking so upset. Is it because Hermione isn't here?"

"What!" He was immediately shushed by Pansy who noticed they were attracting odd looks from near-by couples. "Why would I be worried about her? She's just a Mudblood. She could die for all I care." Draco said unconvincingly. Pansy let go of him, and led him off to a table, shooing away several frightened fourth-years. After sitting down, she motioned for Draco to do the same and come closer. She continued in a whisper.

"We'll see just how much you care. The rumor mill says she's been missing since Seven o'clock." Draco was certain he'd retained his icy composure, but Pansy recognized the slight fear that tinged his aura.

"Nonsense. She was sick. She's probably still in her room trying to fight it off instead of using a spell. Stupid know-it-all isn't as smart as everyone thinks." He finished with his trademark smirk in tact. Pansy just looked at him, noticing his aura was now a strange violet-red colour that resembled a mix of fear and anger. A lot like blood, really. She replied in a monotone voice.

"That's what Ginny thought, and now she's searching the castle top to bottom." Pansy stood, and changed her voice to a more cheerful one. "Well, I won't keep you any longer, Draco! Have fun!" With that, she waved goodbye and left Draco to his own thoughts, knowing that he wouldn't go after a 'Mudblood' if he thought she was watching. Pansy regarded him from a distance. _One… two… three… And … Yup. Draco's gone. _It seemed he had simply vanished, but she knew he'd gone off to rescue his princess. The question was: Did he know it?

* * *

"Curse her." Draco muttered under his breath, as he tried Hermione's door. Being as smart as she was, she'd locked it. Concentrating, he waved his wand in a complex pattern of swirls and slashes. Magically, the door sprang open. _I suppose that's one advantage to being a Death Eater's son._ He thought dryly. He had seen Ginny rushing up the stairs, to either the Owlry or the Astronomy Tower, so he'd decided to check the head's chambers. When he entered the room, he wasn't surprised to see everything organized and clean. '_A logical place to look,_' he thought, _'would be the desk, as that's where she would most likely spend all her time.'_

The desk was clean and bare of any personal memorabellia, except a muggle photograph of Ron, Harry and her self. In the middle of the desk lay a blank piece of parchment. He ignored it, and carefully slid the photo out of its frame. Instead of looking at the image, he turned it over to see what was on the back. What he saw startled him slightly. In the corner, in Hermione's neat printing, were the words 'Harry, Ron, Hermione. The last happy trip to the burrow.' But that wasn't the thing that had frightened him (Malfoys are never scared. Scary maybe, but not scared.). In the center of the space, was a drop of red, which Draco knew was blood. He carefully put the picture back in its place. As he turned to leave, something caught his eye. The same deep red that he'd seen on the photograph, was now on the previously blank paper.

As he looked on, more small drops appeared on the paper. Soon, the drops began to curl into a graceful, flowing script. The writing was faint, and barely legible at first. As he read, it darkened. He saw something about Hermione being near a place that 'no one would _dare_ enter in the dark cloak of night'. Once he finished the letter, something in his mind fell into place. He knew this spell. Animus Discedo, it was an obsolete spell, but he knew that once the writing turned black, Hermione would be dead.

He left the letter where it was, and against his better judgment, climbed out the bedroom window, and sprinted off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. If the spell had been cast properly, he figured he had about three minutes. He came to the edge of the forest near Hagrid's hut. From there, he walked to the left, scanning the ground and hoping he was headed in the right direction.

Training under the watchful eye of Lucius Malfoy for the majority of his life gave him quick reflexive spells, so when he finally saw the near-lifeless form, he did not stop to asses the damage, but he began to work on healing spells. Finite Cruor stopped the bleeding, Frigus Aveho warmed her frozen body, and Scourgify removed the blood from around the gash in her arm.

He gently picked up her ice-cold body, and began the walk to the infirmary. _What were you thinking? Why did you do this? No one deserves this, not even you. _Thoughts raced across his mind as the image that he'd seen haunted his mind. The first thing he'd seen was the blood. There was so much, too much to be from the small body that lay among it. Hermione's soft brown curls splayed out over the white snow. The white snow that contrasted so harshly with the crimson of the blood that formed in pools of reddened ice crystals. She was wearing her cloak, but no scarf or mittens. It looked as though she'd nearly frozen to death before she'd lost all that blood. Her pale skin retained a bluish tinge, the moonlight making her look even more deathly.

As he entered the infirmary, he felt some heat creeping back into Hermione's body. He laid her down on a bed, cast a spell to alert Madame Pomfrey of the situation, then quietly left. '_Why?_' A voice in his mind questioned him. '_Why what?_' he thought back. '_Why did you help a mudblood? Why did you save Granger? Why didn't you let her die? Why do you care?_' The questions came faster and faster. There were too many that he couldn't answer, and some he didn't want to answer. As he walked back to his room, and changed into a pair of forest-green silk boxers before climbing into his bed, the last question floated into his mind like a feather. '_Would she live?_'

* * *

The End…

Of the chapter at least.

* * *

Latin Translations 

**Finite** - Finish

**Cruor** - Bloodshed

**Frigus** – Cold/Cold of winter

**Aveho** - Remove

**Animus** – Soul/Spirit

**Discedo** – To depart from

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**A/N:** So, many of you asked for a second installment. Don't you regret it now? Yes? Good. Please yell at me about it in a review. A thank you to those who thought the story was interesting, although I can't see why: **Destiny, red electra, Heavenly Queen of Darkness, Aerilys Areraniel, and whats in a name but letters.**Until next time, 

Kiara


	3. Christmas Canon

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Harry Potter registered trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not claim any rights to that which is protected by such laws. The story line, however, is mine.

* * *

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the wing, not a patient was stirring, but visitors were another thing…

* * *

It was quite a sight. Maybe it would look comical if you didn't know what had happened. A crowd of five and a nurse seemed to swarm around a bed in the hospital wing like a group of hornets all trying to sting the same person. The deep markings of shock were carved into the faces of everyone gathered, showing how serious this was. Harry and Ron had been called back from the Order's headquarters by Dumbledore shortly after he had found out what had happened. Ginny was in tears, wondering what had happened. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing off to the side, fear clutching their hearts, their minds controlled by an unwelcome thought. Everyone in that room entertained the thought, although no one mentioned it. _Would Hermione wake up?_

"It is getting late and I've still plenty to do, so I'll ask you to leave now and I will call you immediately if anything develops." Madam Pomfrey sounded more worried than any of them could remember, so they left silently. The Grangers left to a room off the Wing they'd been shown to by Dumbledore. Left to do her job, Madam Pomfrey continued to do warming charms, and blood replenishing charms. Because Hermione's brain had slowed to a near stop, she'd spent at lease five minutes without oxygen. The cuts and cold were simple enough to heal, but the breathing was more difficult.

Despite having performed the most advanced healing spells, and applying the most complex potions, Hermione still needed a spell in place that breathed for her. What confused the nurse most, however was that no matter what she attempted to do, the scars and cuts on the girl's arm would not vanish. Sighing, she placed a charm over Hermione to alert her if her condition changed, and went to her office to rest. She'd done all she could.

* * *

Just after the clock struck 11 that night, the door to the infirmary creaked open. The shadow in the doorway paused as if making sure no one would come, before slipping unnoticed into the room. Walking quickly but silently, the figure moved to stand at the end of the girl's bed. From the silver moonlight streaming in the window, he could see her perfectly.

She was better from when she'd first arrived, but she looked so fragile. He laughed internally as he imagined what she'd do if she knew she'd been called fragile. The slight smile vanished quickly though, as his eyes returned to her. Her skin was a translucent, milky white that lacked its normal rosy tinge. She'd always been thin, but now she looked like a mere shadow of her former self.

"Please wake up." He whispered. As he stood to leave, a single tear fell from his eye. He turned and walked out. If he'd looked back, he would have been surprised. The hand on which the tear had fallen slowly unclenched and lay flat against the mattress. Silently, the door closed, and the light from the hall vanished.

* * *

"I wish I knew what happened to her. Why wasn't someone there to protect her?" Hermione's mother thought aloud, as silent tears fell from her eyes.

"The nurse said something about a possible attack by some sort of creature. " Her father seemed emotionless, but his blank expression was a mask, trying to remain strong to help his wife through.

"But she was always so intelligent. Why would she have gone there so late at night?" Silence greeted her question, as it had many others. No one knew what had happened. The depth of the cut on her arm had suggested an attack. Holding back a sob, she asked almost helplessly, "What should we do?"

"Tomorrow, we can ask the headmaster to make an announcement to the students asking anyone with information to come forward." His tone echoed the hopelessness he viewed the situation with.

Long after one had gone to bed, the other moved to sit by the window. '_Oh, Hermione, how could this happen? We love you so much. You can't leave us. You just cant!' _Tears left salty trails as they fell down their face. The tears continued to fall, as the other climbed into bed, and fell into a fitful sleep. It seemed that few slept uninterrupted.

* * *

He was sleeping. Or at least he was trying to. Seeing her like that had shocked him. She was Hermione Granger, the noble, book smart, Gryffindor. Things like that didn't happen to her. They happened to him. It seemed that anyone he cared about was killed, or hurt. He wondered if this had been the work of _him, _that it was meant to torture his emotions. He'd tried so hard to distance himself from her._ I thought no one would notice. Maybe I went too far. Maybe it wasn't far enough. _He really did like her. That was why he'd done what he thought was necessary. Apparently it hadn't been enough.

No one told him, but he understood he'd been the cause of the deaths of many that he'd known. Everything was for her. It always had been. If only she'd wake up.

* * *

'_Let me out!' '_Hermione screamed. She continued to plead for release, but it never came. No one could hear her screams. It'd been like this since she'd woken up, she realized. Something warm and comforting had sunk onto her and it had stirred her mind. She couldn't see, and apparently, she couldn't talk either. On top of all that, something was forcing her lungs to expand and contract. It felt as though she'd been put in a full body-bind curse, which was made even worse when she found she had no control of her limbs at all. She couldn't feel her hands on the fabric of the bed. Now that she thought about it, she didn't feel like she was in her body at all. It was awfully similar, she thought, to having your soul trapped in a glass cage within your own body. Sighing internally, she gave up trying to move and allowed the nothingness to consume her as she fell into a trapped sort of restless sleep.

She was so detached, that she didn't hear the strange humming sound that was now being emitted from a red orb of light floating above her head.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was awakened from a restless sleep by a strange wailing hum. Realizing it was the spell she'd set over Hermione, she ran out to silence the charm, and run more diagnostic tests to see what'd happened to change the poor girl's condition. She only hoped it hadn't gotten worse.

The spells had been cast quickly, and Madam Pomfrey read the results worriedly. When she finally released the breath she'd been holding, it was due to immense relief. It seemed Miss Granger had regained consciousness. Okay, maybe not quite consciousness, but she was now thinking, and able to formulate ideas. Now, normally when a person regained sub-consciousness, they regained the ability to control basic functions such as breathing and keeping one's heart beating. Using this logic, she removed the spell that had been breathing for Hermione.

To her horror, the girl's chest fell, and did not rise. After waiting the procedural few seconds to see if she would begin breathing on her own, she quickly put the spell back in place. _'That is rather unique_,' the healer thought, '_never, in all my years of doing this, have I seen anything like it. Its almost like she's trapped inside her own body….'_ Sighing, she went to tell Albus the news. '_This is going to be a long night. Oh wait… Make that morning.'

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_

A/N: Another chapter has been viciously slaughtered by me, myself, and I. If you are so inclined, try guessing at who was visiting Hermione (in order). Correct guesses get a virtual cookie. Feel free to drop a review telling me to update, that you liked it, or that you'd rather I stopped torturing you with awful FanFiction. And in the words of an amusing FanFiction author (alias "Sirius's Daughter") "Flames will be used to make toast."


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